


the sweetest taboo

by nuageuse (ensoleillee)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Porn with Feelings, Spoilers for Wild Hunt, Unconventional Marriage Proposals, fwb to lovers i think, no beta i'm insecure, theyre whipped for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensoleillee/pseuds/nuageuse
Summary: “I can’t do this, Cerys.Wecan’t do this.”Cerys feigned unknowingness. “What can we not do, Your Majesty?”Ciri gulped at the title rolling off her tongue. She had to remind herself they were in public and she subtly crossed her legs.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Cerys an Craite
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	the sweetest taboo

**Author's Note:**

> hello welcome to semi-annual contribution to the ao3 community! <3 cerys and ciri are in love and you can't tell me otherwise. i wrote this in like an hour, hence why it's not literary excellence, but i'm a sucker for the 'we shouldn't but i want you' trope so i half-assed this ig. BUT i'm currently working on a longer cerysciri fic so stay tuned if i'll ever have the balls to upload it
> 
> disclaimer, i proofread this once
> 
> hope you enjoy reading this!

As the Empress of Nilfgaard, Ciri had already held a lot of banquets, not only inviting her father’s former allies but also those that had suffered under the Empire’s expansive policy. It was only a start in restoring peaceful alliances between the north and the south, but Ciri was optimistic. The war was over, Nilfgaard, as well as lots of other realms, had a new head of state, so a fresh beginning was unavoidable. And if the state of the attendants was anything to go by, it would go a lot smoother than anticipated by her advisors.

Either way, under her guests was also the new queen of Skellige, Cerys an Craite. Ciri had made sure to secure Cerys a place on her right under the pretext of wanting to catch up with an old friend. Nobody had to know that she was still clinging onto their shared past as lovers.

The alcohol didn’t have much of an effect on Ciri, and Cerys could definitely hold her liquor, so they were soon outnumbered looking at how the kings, queens and rulers as well as their advisors were laughing loudly and belting out off-key ballads about war and sex.

Soon enough the two women were in their own bubble and they were talking about their adventures in their childhood, how the men in their lives couldn’t have made it without them and their future plans for their respective kingdoms.

Their fingers often brushed over one another when they reached for food at the same time, and Ciri saw the same flicker in Cerys’s eyes that was undoubtedly coming to life in her own as well.

The more they talked, the closer they leaned into each other. For an outsider, they could just be trying to talk over the noise that was growing louder exponentially in the hall, but an outsider couldn’t overlook the hunger in the women’s eyes. Cerys’s hand rested comfortably on the armrest of Ciri’s throne, while Ciri’s own fingers were swiftly working to get the seed out of an olive on Cerys’s table. The message didn’t go unnoticed by the Skelligan queen.

Suddenly, as if waking up from a pleasurable dream, Ciri withdrew. “I can’t do this, Cerys. _We_ can’t do this.”

Cerys feigned unknowingness. “What can we not do, Your Majesty?”

Ciri gulped at the title rolling off her tongue. She had to remind herself they were in public and she subtly crossed her legs. Suddenly she was glad Geralt had declined her invitation.

“Don’t make me spell it out. This game has been going on for longer than just tonight.” She schooled her expression to not let seep out how much she wanted _this_.

Cerys nodded slowly, but the look in her eyes when she looked at Ciri told her she hadn’t won this argument. “I think I shall take a look at the painting you have displayed in your halls,” she said and grabbed her mug, making a show of gulping down the rest of her drink and licking her lips. Then she popped another olive into her mouth and stood up. “Your Majesty.” She bowed and left the table.

Ciri tried not to stare too openly at the invitation in the sway of her hips and the way Cerys looked back to her and _winked._ Like Ciri was not the empress of the most powerful realm on the continent. But at this moment, she felt like a mere peasant, completely under Cerys’s spell.

She forced herself to join another conversation to her left with diplomats who hadn’t touched alcohol whatsoever and whose sole purpose here was to get the biggest piece of the cake. Then Ciri excused herself. It had barely been five minutes.

She found Cerys standing in front of a painting of one of Ciri’s ancestors, completely innocent.

“I’ll have to remember to take them off one day,” Ciri commented when she was close enough.

Cerys opened her mouth but Ciri was quick enough to silence her. “No, don’t say it.”

The redhead smirked but obeyed. She asked instead, “Why are you here? I thought you couldn’t.”

“You’ve made it impossible to choose,” Ciri answered, her eyes now openly raking over Cerys.

The Queen stepped closer and Ciri could smell the wine and her own scent radiate off her. “You’ve been trying to resist so much, and yet we always end up here.” Cerys’s voice had dropped lower and Ciri gulped.

And she was right. This was not the first banquet Ciri was holding in her new position as the head of Nilfgaard, and of course, Cerys had been there each time. Ciri couldn’t but find a sense of familiarity in their current situation.

“Try to understand me,” Ciri said, almost whining with helplessness. “I’m the Empress of Nilfgaard, you’re the queen of Skellige—”

“And our alliance will be the strongest the continent has ever seen. If you will have me,” Cerys said, her breath brushing over Ciri’s face like feathers.

Ciri closed her eyes for a moment, then they snapped open. “Are you suggesting—”

Cerys silenced her with a kiss.

Ciri responded immediately, burying her hands in Cerys’s hair, certainly musing up her hairstyle and setting her crown askew. Cerys tasted of olives.

They separated, out of breath. Ciri nodded into the direction behind Cerys. “There’s an empty room.” Cerys nodded, enlacing their fingers and rushing to said room. It was where her father had held his war councils.

With Cerys help, they got Ciri out of the top layer of her dress, leaving her only in her white undergarments and undershirt. Cerys’s clothes were less complicated, and soon she was in her underclothes as well. When the Skelligan bowed down to take a dagger out of her boot, a hot wave sent through Ciri’s already trembling body.

Cerys quickly shoved the scrolls and books out of the way before laying her lover down on top of the table. Ciri found she liked the symbol.

Cerys joined her on the table, leaning over her, and licked her lips before she all but devoured Ciri. The empress lifted her leg and hooked it over Cerys’s waist to get her closer. When their crotches met, their groans were muffled by each other’s lips.

Cerys kissed down Ciri’s neck, tearing the lacing of Ciri’s underdress apart. She buried her face between Ciri’s breasts, one hand coming up to squeeze one breast. The other became the full centre of attention of Cerys’s mouth. Ciri’s hips bucked, and Cerys took it as a cue to grind her own against the empress’s. Ciri groaned loudly, throwing her head back and she could only hope the walls were solid enough.

“Enjoying yourself, Your Majesty?”

“Don’t stop,” Ciri whined, grasping for Cerys’s head to guide her back to her chest.

“Was that an order, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, yes it was, Your Highness.”

Cerys chuckled at that but went down to work again. Her fingers went into Cerys’s hair, skillfully working the crown out of her head and let it fall to the floor. Her own must have fallen off her head in the haste of getting undressed.

“Can you move up a little?” Cerys asked. Ciri nodded and skimmed up to the end of the table, propping her legs up, because she knew what she was about to be gifted.

Cerys hiked up the skirt of her undress, letting it bunch up around her waist. A finger went through the mess Ciri had already made herself off. Ciri had to keep herself from kicking her leg up—she was already so far gone. Cerys held eye contact with her as she slowly popped the finger into her mouth, and a chill went down Ciri’s spine at the erotic display.

Then, Cerys ducked her head and went to town. At first, she licked superficially at Ciri’s outer lips, lapping up her fluids. Automatically, well-practised, a delicate hand wound itself into Cerys’s red hair, making sure she would not leave this place in a while. And if Cerys’s happy noises were any indication, she wasn’t planning to do so.

Cerys’s finger entered Ciri then, while her tongue moved up to make her lose her mind with the way she treated her clit. Ciri was beginning to tremble of not thrashing on the table, and even that didn’t keep her from moving her hips against Cerys’s face. And if Cerys’s needed to take a break, she was stronger than Ciri was in her position anyway.

A second finger joined the first one, and they curled up, hitting the spot that made Ciri see stars dead-on, and reflexively, Ciri locked her thighs around Cerys’s head. But Cerys was to occupied to take further notice.

At three fingers, Ciri was moaning and shaking, and she felt her release creeping up her back. Her toes curled, and with stuttering words, she tried to warn Cerys. The younger seemed to take that as a hint to work even harder, pump her fingers deeper into Ciri’s body. Ciri came suddenly and powerfully. A long, deep groan, that she had fought to keep locked in her chest made its way out, and she didn’t have the brain capacity and try and not let them get heard. For a moment, there wasn’t a banquet going on on the other end of the hallway, with their guests wondering where the two women have disappeared to. Right now, it was just the two of them, loving one another, and smiling at each other brightly.

Ciri slowly regained control over her body. She hoisted herself up on her forearms and looked at Cerys, whose expression mirrored her own.

“Did you already come?” Ciri asked, not minding how it didn’t suit an empress to speak such crude words.

Cerys just nodded, not quite able to talk just yet. With a bit of logistical finesse and bumping elbows, the two managed to lay down next to one another on the grand table.

An ink jar was digging uncomfortably into Ciri’s lower back and with one movement, she let it clatter onto the floor, the ink spreading onto the marble floor.

Their legs were entangled, Ciri’s arm was draped over Cerys’s waist, as they looked each other, the smiles not having left their kiss-red lips.

“So, how about that alliance?” Ciri asked after a while, her heart rate picking up just after it had managed to slow down.

“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” Cerys asked in return, but Ciri saw uncertainty masked behind the confidence she wore so easily.

Ciri nodded. “Yes, I do.” And the blinding smile on Cerys’s freckled face was enough to assure her she had made the right decision. She leaned forward and planted a kiss on Cerys’s lips.

They stayed like that for some time, before they helped each other back into their clothes. It would have taken less time, had the skin contact not made them lose their sense of responsibility each time. When they rejoined the banquet, even more alcohol had been consumed by the guests. But even they didn’t manage to miss the glow the two women emitted.

And that’s how Cerys not only managed to secure herself the biggest piece of the cake, but also Ciri’s heart in the process.

**Author's Note:**

> (enter obligatory milfgaard joke)


End file.
